


Roommates

by lillianfromaccounting



Category: CSI: Crime Scene Investigation
Genre: Alternate Universe - CSI: Crime Scene Investigation, F/M
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2015-06-16
Updated: 2015-07-05
Packaged: 2018-04-04 17:12:18
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 5
Words: 9,342
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/4145937
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/lillianfromaccounting/pseuds/lillianfromaccounting
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>A member from the NY lab is assigned to Las Vegas for a temporary assignment.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Welcome to Vegas

D.B. Russell is walking down the hall with a female dressed in loose black khakis and a white oxford blouse. Her dark hair is up in a tight ponytail; her pale facial features are dwarfed by her large bangs and thick horn rimmed glasses.  
“Phee Roth!” Julie Finley shouted down the hall, “Is that you?!”  
“Jules Finn!” Ophelia Rothberg shouted back.  
“What are you doing here?” Finley asked.  
“Las Vegas is my next assignment,” Ophelia replied, “at least for a few months.”  
“Yes! I can show you all the party places!” Finley said as she did a little dance.  
“Before you two get too crazy,” D.B. Russell interjected, “I’m going to introduce Phee here to the rest of the team. Now Phee, you know how I feel about fraternizing with the team.”  
“Russell, you know how I feel about fraternizing with the team,” Ophelia replied.  
“Just laying the ground rules, I don’t need another Morgan and her boyfriend Greg thing going on around here,” Russell said. Finley rolled her eyes.  
“So what’s with the whole get up?” Finley asked.  
“The new look?” Ophelia replied, “It’s a detractor. You know, keeps them at bay.”  
“That’s good to hear,” Russell chimed in, “I thought you were suffering from some sort of illness.”  
“Well, I really don’t think you need it around here. The guys pretty much keep to themselves,” Finley said.  
“Oh, there’s Nick,” Russell called out, “Nick, this is Ophelia Rothberg. She is on temporary assignment here from the New York office. She’s here to learn all about our protocols and procedures and see if there’s anything she can bring back to their office,” Russell introduced. “Ophelia, this is CSI Nick Stokes. He’s my most senior investigator. He will be your primary resource here. While you will be working mostly with the day shift, Nick here will be your point person other than myself. I’m leaving you in very good hands. I have to run to a meeting with the sheriff. It was very good to see you again, Phee. We’ll have to do dinner the next time Allison is in town.”  
“Nice to meet you,” Nick said, extending his hand.  
“The pleasure is all mine,” Ophelia replied. “Thanks, Russell, and yes, we will have to do dinner.”  
“If you’re up for it, I just got called on a case,” Nick said.  
“Sure! Should I drive separately or just tag along?”  
“I’ll drive. It’ll be faster that way,” Nick replied.  
“Finn, I’ll see you later,” Ophelia said, “We’ll have to catch up.”  
“Over drinks,” Finley said.

On the drive to the crime scene, Nick goes over some of the basics of the team’s dynamic and how the day shift works a little differently from night shift.  
“So how long are you out here on temporary assignment?” Nick asked.  
“Right now, it’s set for a year. If there is a need, the assignment could be extended,” Ophelia replied. “Mac is pretty open about it. I’ll be flying back to New York relatively frequently to give updates and to implement any procedures that will help us.”  
“Mac Taylor is a good guy,” Nick said. “I met him once when he was out here.”  
“When Cristina was kidnapped?” Ophelia said, “Yeah, those weren’t the best circumstances.”  
“Did you work the case too, from the New York side?”  
“I worked in the lab at the time, but we were all very aware of what was going on,” Ophelia said.

Nick pulls into a parking lot of a motel and parks the SUV near the manager’s office.

“This is where the crime scene is?” Ophelia asked.  
“Yeah, why?” Nick responded.  
“This is where I’m staying. What room is the crime scene?”  
Nick checks his phone for the dispatch, “Room 15.”  
“Fantastic. I’m right next door in room 13.”  
“Lucky number 13,” Nick said.  
They walked up to room 15 and Ophelia’s jaw dropped at the level of destruction. The door to the room had been kicked down. The furniture inside the room had been upheaved as if a tornado blew through it. Her heart sunk when she got inside the room. There were many bullet holes all across the walls and her belongings were in plain sight through the gunshot damage.  
“Wow, they really did a number on this one,” Nick said. “Look, I’ve processed many crime scenes in this motel. There’s no way I’m letting you stay here tonight, or any night. After we process the crime scene, I want you to pack your things and you’re checking out of this place. We’ll find a better place for you to stay at.”  
Ophelia nodded, “Where do we start?”

After Nick and Ophelia processed the crime scene, Ophelia went next door, packed her things up into the back of the SUV, and checked out of the motel.  
“I made a few phone calls,” Nick said, “and someone on my team actually has a spare bedroom that you can stay at until you find another place or get settled elsewhere.”  
“Thanks,” Ophelia said, “I really appreciate that.”  
“You okay?” Nick said.  
“I’ve never been this personally close to a crime scene before. I mean, I’ve worked tons of them, but none of them have been literally in my backyard, or next door for that matter.”  
“Well, I’m glad you weren’t here when it all went down,” Nick said, “Judging by the damage in your room, you might not have survived it.”  
“I agree,” Ophelia said.  
“Well, let’s get back. I’ll introduce you to the rest of the team. Greg is the one with the extra room. He’s one of the nicest guys I know.”

“Yeah, I heard that she’s responsible for half a dozen deaths and about a dozen serious injuries,” Hodges said.  
“That sounds a bit of a tall tale,” Archie said.  
“Are you sure you’re not exaggerating?” Henry asked.  
“I’m only passing along what I’ve heard,” Hodges said.  
“Who’s your contact in New York anyway?” Archie said as Greg walked into the lab.  
“Hey guys,” Greg said.  
“My contact in New York is very reliable,” Hodges said. “She’s dangerous, in a good and bad way. Either way, I highly suggest we all stay away.”  
“Well, maybe we won’t be attracted to her,” Henry said.  
“I heard she’s pretty hot,” Archie said, “but like in a nerdy way.”  
“We’re...all nerds,” Henry.  
Greg looks really confused, “What are you guys talking about?”  
“Oh you haven’t heard yet?” Henry said.  
“I...guess not. Heard what?” Greg asked.  
“There’s a new CSI in town. She’s from New York,” Hodges said. “She also used to be a lab rat.”  
“Ok...so there’s a new CSI in town,” Greg repeated.  
“She has a reputation for being a femme fatale,” Henry said.  
“According to the stories, the guys she dated end up either dead or severely injured,” said Archie.  
“Back in New York, they called her---” Hodges started.  
“The black widow,” Ophelia said from the entrance to the lab, “and I have a very strict no dating coworkers policy, so have no fear.” Archie, Henry, and Hodges avoid eye contact and scatter around the lab.  
“Hey, there he is!” Nick said, “Greg, this is Ophelia Rothberg, or better known as Phee.”  
“Nice to meet you,” Greg extended his hand out.  
“Phee, this is the guy I was telling you about, Greg Sanders. He started out in the lab too, like you, before going into the field.” Nick continued.  
“Nice to meet you too,” Ophelia shook Greg’s hand.   
“Phee, if it’s okay with you, I’m going to go drop off the evidence and start processing some of the photos. I’m leaving you in good hands here. Why don’t you meet up with me after you get all settled?”  
“Thanks, Nick,” she smiled.  
“Now, don’t pay any mind to that chatter,” Nick said in a lower voice.  
“Don’t worry, it doesn’t bother me anymore,” Ophelia replied.  
“Well, you’re a better person for it,” Nick said. “Greg here is the nicest they come. He’ll take care of you. I’ll see you two later.”  
“Thank you so much. I hope to find another place in the next few days, so I won’t be inconveniencing you for too long.”  
“It’s not much of an inconvenience.” Greg said, “My guest room rarely gets used.”  
“So I’m just checking my schedule...how about we drive out to my place, get you all settled, then we can swing by the hospital, pick up the samples, and then head back here.” Greg suggested.  
“Sounds good.”

“I, for one, am not attracted to her,” Hodges whispered.  
“Neither am I,” Henry whispered back.

“So how long will you be in Vegas?” Greg asked as he opened the door to his house.  
“The assignment is tentatively for a year, but usually it ends up being longer because there’s usually new protocol adoption on both sides, so I end up implementing processes for both labs.”  
“How long have you been doing this?”  
“About five years now,” Ophelia replied, “The first lab I went to was Miami. I was in Seattle a few years ago. That's where I met Finn.”  
“So here it is,” Greg announced, “this is the living room. Dining room is to the right there, and the kitchen is behind it. Down the hallway, the guest bedroom, which has its own bath, is the second door on the left. My room is on the right.”  
“This house is very quaint. Is it a Victorian?”  
“Yes, one of the few originals left in town.” Greg replied, “May I help you with that?”  
“Thanks, but I’ve got it. I pack light,” Ophelia said. “Do you have a firearms policy or a safe?”  
“There is a safe, but mine is usually in my night stand,” Greg said.  
“So you won’t mind if I keep mine next to the bed either?” Ophelia said.  
“Not at all,” Greg said, “It must be hard travelling so much for work.”  
“It can be, but you get used to it. I’ve gotten very good at living out of a suitcase. I’ve stayed at places worse than that motel for far much longer.”  
“Well, here in Vegas, we are known for our hospitality.”  
“I think you might be confusing that word with hospitalization.” Ophelia drops her carry-on bag onto the trunk at the end of the bed. “This place is really, really cute. All right, I’m settled. Let’s get back to work.”  
“Here’s the extra key,” Greg handed her a set of keys with a pair of dice keychain.  
“You’re very trusting,” Ophelia said.  
“Russell and Nick both seem to vouch for you, and that’s enough for me,” Greg said.  
“Your team is very nice. None of you had to do any of that,” Ophelia said.  
“Hospitality,” Greg responded.

They locked up the house and got back into Greg’s CSI-issued SUV.  
“Thank you again,” Ophelia said.  
“You’re welcome,” Greg responded. “Maybe if one of us ever makes it out to New York for a case, you can show us the same hospitality.”  
“Maybe,” Ophelia responded. “Chances are, my place will be empty anyway, since I’ll probably be traveling for work, so there’s that.”  
“You still maintain a place with all the traveling that you do?”  
“Yes. It keeps me sane, knowing there’s a physical space to go back home to.”  
“Have you ever considered changing roles so you can stop traveling?”  
“I have,” Ophelia responded, “but right now, I need the constant movement. Keeps me focused on just work. So have you ever been to New York City?”  
“As a matter of fact, I lived there for two years after college,” Greg said.  
“Really? Have you been back since?”  
“No, I haven’t had the chance,” Greg said, “Plus, I didn’t really have the greatest time out there, so I have no good reason to go back. There are plenty of other places on my bucket list to see.”  
“Ouch,” Ophelia said, “yeah, New York can be a bitch, but that’s the way I like her.”  
“By the way, I would like to apologize for my colleagues back at the lab. Hodges, Henry, and Archie aren’t malicious,” Greg said.  
“No need for apologies,” Ophelia replied, “There is some truth to what they said, so I can’t really blame them. Gossip gets around faster than wildfire, especially with the internet nowadays.” There was a moment of silence before Ophelia started to explain, “My first boyfriend on the force---”  
Greg cut her off, “You don’t have to elaborate...if you don’t want to. It’s really none of my business.”  
Ophelia smiled, “Thanks. So Morgan will be okay with this living situation?"  
"I don't think she knows about it, but I don't see why she wouldn't," Greg said.  
Ophelia gave Greg a look, “Russell said…”  
“Oh, Russell makes fun of us. She’s not really my girlfriend,” Greg clarified.  
“You don’t have to elaborate,” Ophelia smiled.  
“There’s nothing to elaborate,” Greg smiled back.

Greg woke up to the smell of bacon. He checked his alarm clock and saw that it was 6pm, the normal time he wakes up for work. Remembering that he has a house guest now, he pulled a t-shirt over his head and slid his feet into his slippers.  
“I don’t remember the last time I made food in this kitchen that didn’t involve more than the microwave,” Greg said while he leaned over the breakfast counter.  
“I hope you don’t mind,” Ophelia said, “this is how I wind down after a long day.”  
“Hey, I don’t mind at all. It smells amazing,” Greg’s eyes lit up, “Do I smell coffee too?”  
“Yeah, I made dessert. Tiramisu,” Ophelia replied.  
“Is there any left for drinking?” Greg scanned the kitchen counters.  
“Yeah, I’ll pour you a mug,” Ophelia said. “I hope I didn’t wake you up.”  
“No, this is my usual,” Greg said as Ophelia handed him a piping hot mug of coffee. “What is this stuff?” he looked around the kitchen for the coffee maker.  
“Oh, I didn’t use your coffee,” Ophelia said, “It’s a hazelnut blend I picked up at the farmers’ market. Smelled good and figured it would go well for the tiramisu.”  
“How did you brew it?” Greg asked.  
“Coffee filters and a strainer,” Ophelia replied. “I wasn’t making a lot, so I didn’t bother with the coffee maker. Plus, I’ve heard some stories…”  
“They’re not true,” Greg retorted, “unless the story is that I make the best coffee in the lab. That’s true.”  
“Yeah, I wouldn’t want to mess with whatever process that is,” Ophelia said. “It’s like athletes who don’t shave or whatever during the season. Can’t mess with that stuff.”  
“What else did you make?” Greg looked around.  
“Brussels sprouts with bacon, mashed sweet potatoes, and roasted chicken,” Ophelia replied, “and tiramisu for dessert.”  
“You did all that today?” Greg sounded surprised.  
“Yes,” Ophelia replied, “It’s less work than it sounds.”  
“If you say so,” Greg said.  
“Are you hungry?” Ophelia asked.  
“Yes,” Greg said, “but I’m going to go get dressed first.”  
“Okay, I’ll set up the table,” Ophelia replied.

“So I’m having wine with dinner,” Ophelia said, “Did you want any?”  
“Sure, why not?” Greg responded.  
“I didn’t know if the whole wine with breakfast thing bothered you or not,” Ophelia said.  
“Well, wine with breakfast might be a little odd,” Greg said, “but this is wine with dinner. See, the way to survive night shift is to actually treat it as night, not pretend that your day has shifted.”  
“I see,” Ophelia said, “so you get breakfast after your shift.”  
“Exactly,” Greg said. “Now, that’s not to say I wouldn’t have a beer with breakfast, because sometimes that’s warranted after a long night, but it’s still breakfast.”  
“There are many suitable breakfast beers,” Ophelia replied as she poured Greg a glass of wine. Greg sat down at the dining room table across from Ophelia.  
“So I was thinking,” Ophelia said, “if it’s okay with you, maybe we can do this on a somewhat regular basis.”  
“What? Have a home-cooked meal together?” Greg replied, “I think that’s a great idea as long as you cook. I can handle the drinks.”  
“I was thinking of maybe a supper club and inviting some of the people in the lab over,” Ophelia said. “I figure we can poll for interest, maybe start with Nick, Sara, Morgan, and Finn, then expand as we see fit or change up the invite list every time.”  
“I think,” Greg said in between bites, “based on the food here, everyone will come knocking. You will have to beat people away at the door.”  
“Thanks,” Ophelia said. “So you think we should do this?”  
“We can try one,” Greg said, “see how it goes.”


	2. Come Dance With Me

Greg woke up to the smell of popcorn. He got dressed and walked out to the living room.  
“I’m not sure if this is a good thing or a bad thing that I keep waking up to the smell of food,” Greg said.  
“Oh, good evening!” Ophelia greeted, “Sorry, did the popcorn wake you up?”  
“No, I was about to get up anyway, but that smells divine. Is that bacon?”  
“Yeah, I made bacon with dinner. I add a little bit of the bacon grease to the popcorn. Here, try some,” she passed the bowl over and Greg grabbed a handful.  
“This is gourmet,” Greg said, “not like the stale stuff at the movie theaters.”  
“Thanks,” Ophelia said, “I was just about to sit down for a movie. What are you up to?”  
“Well, I guess I should shower and wake up. Today is Saturday. No supper club this week?” Greg asked, sneaking another handful of popcorn into his mouth.  
“No, everyone was either working or had plans already,” Ophelia said. She put a plate of bacon-wrapped something or other in front of him. “Try these.”  
Greg picked one up and popped it into his mouth. As he chewed, the combination of sweet, salty, smoky, and creamy flooded his taste buds. “That--is--incredible!”  
“Bacon wrapped dates with a little bit of cream cheese,” she said.  
“If you’re willing to wait fifteen minutes, I’ll join you for the movie,” Greg said.

After the movie...  
“Well, that was fun,” Greg said, “what now?”  
“What do you mean ‘what now?’ I was going to read my book, play some solitaire on the computer, and call it a night.”  
“Oh, come on,” Greg said, “It’s Saturday night! You’re in Vegas, the city that never sleeps.”  
“Well, it’s probably too late to get tickets to anything now,” Ophelia said. “What do you suggest, since you’re the supposed expert on Vegas?”  
“Do you dance?” Greg asked with his eyebrows raised.

Greg, dressed in a grey three-piece suit and a fedora, walked around the SUV and opened the passenger side door. His jaw dropped when Ophelia stepped out. In the car, he didn’t fully appreciate her knee-length sleeveless black dress, which was snug in just the right places. Her eyes twinkled under the bright lights of the strip. She walked up to Greg and adjusted his tie slightly. Greg detected hints of vanilla and bergamot on her.  
“Is this the place?” she asked. “Greg?” He blinked a few times, shaking out of his daze.  
“Yes, this is the place,” he replied.  
She linked her arm with his and they walked into the club. The band played Sinatra as the hostess led Greg and Ophelia to a cabaret table on the edge of the dance floor.  
A waitress promptly brought two glasses of water to the table and took their drink orders.  
“So do you come here often?” Ophelia asked sultrily and then laughed. Greg took a sip of water, hoping the glass and the dim lighting of the club masked his cheeks turning several shades of red.  
“Back when I was writing my book, I would be here a few times a week,” Greg replied.  
“But not so much anymore?”  
“A few years ago, I lost--a close friend. She was a musician from New York and also a Rat Pack fan. She had found a rare vinyl and the guy who had given it to her...he got into a jealous rage when he found out she had wanted the record for me. He killed her,” Greg looked up at Ophelia’s wide eyes. “Since then, I’ve been back maybe a handful of times.”  
Ophelia took a sip of her water. “Sounds like she was pretty special.”  
“Yes,” Greg said, “she was.”  
The waitress returned with their drinks, “Frank’s preferred,” she placed a glass of Jack Daniels and water on the rocks in front of Greg, “and a Cosmopolitan.”  
The band started up “New York, New York”.  
“Oh, we have to dance to this one,” Greg said. He offered his right hand. Ophelia took his cue and they joined several older couples on the dance floor. Greg took every opportunity he had to sing along with the band and added lots of twirls and dips to their dancing. Couples around them stared in disdain as they randomly bursted out in laughter. The band started “Strangers in the Night”. He gave her a ‘should we?’ look and she shrugged ‘why not?’ She wrapped her arms around his neck and he put his hands on her waist. They maintained a healthy distance apart though. She reminisced grade school dances where the chaperones used to come around with a ruler to make sure there was ‘enough room’ between slow dancing couples. They swayed slowly across the dance floor.  
“You know, Sinatra hated this song,” Greg said.  
“No, I didn’t know,” Ophelia replied. “That’s unfortunate, because it’s a good song.”  
“Are you a believer of love at first sight?”  
“I’m a hopeless romantic on so many levels, so yes, I think it can happen. I’ve seen it happen to a lot of people I know. What about you?”  
“Part of me believes in it, but part of me also wants a scientific explanation.”  
“For love? Well, if you believe that love is just a series of chemical reactions happening in our brains, then love at first sight is probably just those reactions happening faster or in more abundance.”  
“But what triggers those reactions?”  
“My guess? Pheromones. Microbacteria in the gut. The humidity level and angle of the sun to Pluto at that moment,” she laughed. “It’s a mystery, but what does it matter? You still feel what you feel towards that person. Trying to figure out why you feel that way ruins the romance a little.”  
“I’m a scientist.”  
“I am too, and I’ve accepted that we don’t know enough about how that works yet, so I will work with what I know.”  
“And that is?”  
“I know what I like when I see it,” she stared into his blue eyes and couldn’t help a slight smile. She felt his hands tighten around her; she leaned in closer to him as the song ended and the band transitioned into something more upbeat. She bit her lower lip and looked away.  
Greg swallowed hard. “I--need some water,” he said, a little hoarse.  
“Good idea,” she said, stepping away from him. They made their way back to the table.

“So I have to ask,” Greg said. “Are you wearing contact lenses?”  
Ophelia’s eyes popped wide open. She touched her face a few times. “I’m not wearing my glasses,” she finally said. “I have a confession to make. Those glasses aren’t prescription.”  
“I figured. You’ve forgotten to wear them a few times around the house. You’re also not wearing the heavy makeup that you usually wear to work either.”  
“You are quite observant.”  
“It’s all part of the job. Do you just like the goth look or is there another reason for the disguise, not that there’s anything wrong with it? Finley showed me some old pictures of Seattle and you definitely did not sport that look back then.”  
“I needed a change,” Ophelia replied. “People take me more seriously when my looks aren’t part of the package.”  
“Well, I don’t think you need to hide yourself,” Greg said. “Your work speaks for itself.”  
“Thanks,” Ophelia smiled. Just then, both of their phones went off. “Speaking of work…”  
“Looks like a big one,” Greg said. “Do you want me to drop you off at the house before I head over?”  
“No, we can go straight there. It looks like all hands on deck anyway. Are you okay to drive?”  
“Yeah, it’s been well over an hour since we finished those drinks.”

Greg turned right to get onto the highway. Ophelia reached into her bag and pulled some items out. Out of the corner of his eye, Greg caught a glimpse of her fidgeting around. A minute later, she pulled the dress over her head and had on a plain black t-shirt and jeans. They were at the crime scene a few minutes later.

“That was impressive,” Greg gestured towards her clothes as they grabbed their kits from the trunk of the SUV. Greg left his jacket in the car and rolled up his sleeves.  
“It’s a girl thing. You change enough times in a girls’ locker room and you get pretty good at changing almost anywhere.”  
“Well don’t you look spiffy tonight, Greg,” Finley teased.  
“We were out dancing,” Greg said, “came right over when we got the call.”  
“Dancing!” Finley raised her eyebrows. Ophelia shook her head.  
“So what can we do to help?” Greg asked.

Greg pulled the car into the driveway. “I’m sorry our night out got cut short,” he said.  
Ophelia checked her watch, “It’s 3am, Greg. If this is your idea of a short night, then you must be a party animal, and I commend you for that.”  
“The last four hours were work.”  
“Well, we can take a rain check and go dancing again,” Ophelia said.  
“Really?” Greg leaned in towards her. “I’d like that.”  
Ophelia’s heart raced; she knew the tugging sensation in her heart all too well. Living with Greg these past two months was probably not the best idea. He was a gentleman, and so sweet--a polar opposite from the New York firefighter brutes she normally fell for--but here she was, falling for this blonde hair, blue-eyed Scandinavian science geek. She knew she couldn’t act on this feeling though; her last boyfriend suffered second degree burns from a routine training and previous ones had even more bizarre injuries.   
“Me too,” she said. She placed her left hand on his chest, running her fingers down the soft fabric of his vest. “We should go inside and get some sleep--in our respective rooms. Thanks for a fun night.” She gave him a kiss on the cheek and got out of the car.


	3. Accidents Will Happen

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This chapter happens at the end of Season 15, episode 3 "Bad Blood".

Ophelia walked briskly into the lab.  
“Hey, Archie,” she greeted him with a nod.  
“Hey Phee,” he responded without looking up.  
“What’s going on? There’s a lot of buzz around here” she said, trying to remain calm but fearing for the worse.  
“You haven’t heard yet?” Archie looked up from his monitor. “Greg and Sara went into quarantine last night. They got to the crime scene and the victim showed signs of a viral disease.”

Ophelia swallowed hard and took a deep breath. That was why Greg hadn’t returned her texts from last night. He usually responded before the end of his shift and when possible, they would grab a quick bite to eat at the diner before he headed home and she went to work.

“Where are they being held?” she asked.  
“The CDC set up a site at the hospital,” he said.  
“Thanks,” she said as she quickly walked out of the lab.  
“Hey, where are you going?” he called after her. “Your shift just started!”

Ophelia weaved her way through the hospital to get to the quarantine site. She saw David down the hall and tried to catch up with him. He walked through a set of double doors and as the doors swung, she caught a glimpse of Greg and Sara embracing. Her stomach dropped and she exhaled at the same time. ‘They’re out of quarantine’, she thought to herself, ‘that must mean they are okay’. She walked faster towards them, but then stopped herself. Every fiber of her body wanted to be with Greg, to hold him tightly in her arms, to run her fingers through his hair, and to inhale his scent. She needed to have an excuse as to why she was at the hospital.

She held her hand out to the counter to steady herself. She didn’t realize she was trembling.

A nurse walked by and touched her arm, “Are you alright, ma’am?”  
“Yes,” Ophelia managed to respond hoarsely. She looked up again towards the double doors and this time Greg locked eyes with her and gave her the biggest smile ever. He waved her towards them. She took a deep breath and walked towards them. She felt a wave of emotion coming over her and blinked a few times to fight off the tears.

“What are you doing here?” Greg asked as Ophelia walked through the double doors.  
“I,” Ophelia tried to speak over the lump in her throat, “Archie mentioned you guys were in quarantine and I...I came over...to see if I could help. Collect samples and…” her voice trailed off. “I see you have been released from quarantine. I’m glad you guys are okay.” She locked eyes with Greg again and managed a smile. She brushed a wisp of hair behind her ear. “I have to pick up some samples from downstairs. I’ll see you guys later. Hope you get some rest. I’m really glad you’re both okay.” She turned around and briskly walked down the hall towards the stairwell.

“Hey Phee,” Greg called after her. He turned to Sara and said, “I’ll be right back.”

Ophelia turned into the stairwell. Greg caught up and put his arms around her.  
“Thanks for coming by,” he whispered into her ear.  
Ophelia closed her eyes and let the tears flow. She returned his embrace and they stood there silently for a lingering moment. He pulled away and wiped her tear strewn cheeks dry. He kissed her ever so gently on the forehead.  
“I...didn’t know what to...what to expect,” Ophelia said in between breaths.  
Greg held her close; she buried her face into his chest.  
“I should have emailed you or gotten word to you somehow,” Greg said. “They took my phone away.”  
“It’s okay,” she replied, “I just wish I had gotten a call from work so that I could have helped out.”  
“It’s okay; they got it done. We’re okay,” Greg said. They stood there in silence for what seemed like a very long time.  
“I should go,” Ophelia finally said, “I don’t really have samples to pick up. I ran out of the lab without explanation. I should get back. I’ll see you back home tonight.”  
He hugged her one more time before letting her go. She walked down the stairwell to exit the hospital and he walked back upstairs to where Sara was awkwardly waiting in the hallway.

“Everything okay?” Sara asked.  
“Yeah,” Greg said. “Breakfast?”  
“Yeah, sure,” Sara replied.

The waitress brought over a carafe of coffee and their breakfast orders.  
“Thanks,” Greg said. Sara studied his face while he peppered his eggs.  
“So,” she said, “how long?”  
Greg looked up and furrowed his brow, “How long what?”  
“How long have you two been--together?”  
“Phee? We’re not. She’s my roommate.”  
“In case you’ve forgotten, I am the queen of office romances around here, so don’t even try to hide it.”  
“I’m not hiding anything,” Greg shook his head and stared into his cup of black coffee. “We’re not ‘together’.”  
“Are you sure there’s nothing there?” Sara asked.  
“Oh, there’s something there,” Greg said, taking a large gulp of the black coffee and then winced at how burnt it was. That new waitress must have made the pot this morning. “I think there’s something--chemistry--there. I mean, we spend a lot of time together--and we care for each other--”  
“That was obvious,” Sara chimed in.  
“But…”  
“Lab rules?” Sara took a bite of her toast.  
“Lab rules. Her rules,” Greg shoved a forkful of eggs into his mouth and swallowed. “You’ve heard the rumors about her previous boyfriends, right?”  
“Yeah. They’re not rumors. She dished on all of them during one of our girls’ nights. It’s enough to make you question statistics and coincidences.”  
“They can’t be that bad,” Greg said.  
“She didn’t tell you?”  
“I didn’t want to know.”  
“I believe the tally was two deaths and five injuries that involved hospitalization. She didn’t detail all the minor ones.”  
“So she doesn’t want to start anything because she doesn’t want me to get hurt.”  
Sara nodded, “But you two are spending all your free time together and live in the same house and--this doesn’t bother you?”  
“She wanted to move out. I told her that we’re adults and that we can keep it platonic.”  
“And you’re okay with that?”  
“She’s really good company and a great dancer.”  
“So this is like 1950s dating, all the social life stuff but no intimacy,” Sara said in between bites.  
“If you thought they didn’t find ways to get it on in the 1950s, you’re kidding yourself. Pre-marital sex is as old as fire.”  
“Stop changing the subject. So you’re okay with no intimacy?”  
“I’d rather have the friendship than not have her in my life at all. She’s only out here a short time anyway; who knows where she will be off to in several months. She is also an amazing cook.”  
“So you’re playing house, sorta.”  
“Why are you so vested in this?” Greg asked.  
“Because you are one of my oldest friends and I want you to be happy,” Sara took another sip of coffee. “Besides, I consider myself the poster child for office romance in this lab, and I just don’t want to see what happened to me happen to you. I don’t want you to get hurt.”  
“Thank you. I appreciate it,” he smiled. “You are definitely one of my best friends. I’m a big boy though, and I can figure things out for myself.”


	4. A Fellow Needs a Girl

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Touches on some of the events that happened in earlier Season 15. This is a bunch of smaller snippet scenes to show the passage of time, I guess.

“It’s not your fault,” Greg said from the hospital bed. His head was wrapped in bandage and he was hooked up to several beeping machines. Ophelia took a deep breath.  
“It’s the second time you’ve been seriously injured on the job in less than a month. Last time with the quarantine, that was scary. This time, you were attacked. You could have been killed,” she said. She walked over to the vase of flowers on the table next to his bed to avoid eye contact. She didn’t want him to see her wet eyes.  
“It’s the job,” Greg said. “You can’t blame yourself.”  
“You should get some rest,” she said, wiping her face and turning back to face him. “I’ll be on the road for the next few weeks. I’ll be back in time for Thanksgiving though.”  
“Next supper club?”  
“Yes, it’ll be the last one for the year, since almost everyone has plans for Christmas or New Year’s.”  
“I can’t wait,” he took her hand.  
“You take care of yourself, Gregory,” she kissed him on the forehead.

\------

“So how’s life?” Greg asked, taking a sip of his beer. “I feel like we haven’t talked in a while.”  
“Someone’s been busy playing house and throwing supper parties,” Morgan teased. “Life’s good though. This thing with David has been fun. We’re taking it super, super slow. How’s your life? Roommate still working out?”  
“She’s been away on some conferences. She was back last week for Thanksgiving but she flew out yesterday and will be gone for a few days.”  
“So no going out dancing the night away for Greg?”  
“Not so much,” he looked down at his beer.  
“Back to what you said earlier, you are so much more than a cop. The fact that some random people identified you as one in a very controlled environment doesn’t mean that is your only identity.”  
“I know. It was just--that moment--it just got to me.”  
“You should take a vacation. Go visit your grandparents like you’ve been meaning to.”  
“I do have vacation time to burn. Thanks, Morgan. That’s an excellent idea.” They clinked their beer bottles.

\------

“You’re flying out of Terminal 3, correct?” Greg asked.  
“Yes, and you are at Terminal 1,” Ophelia responded.  
“So I’ll drop you off first, and then I’ll go park near Terminal 1.”  
“Would it be easier if we took a cab? We could go to Terminal 1 and I can take the shuttle it to Terminal 3. My flight isn’t until 11pm anyway.”  
“My flight is later, so if anything, we’ll get dropped off at Terminal 3 and I’ll make my way over. A cab isn’t a bad idea though.” Greg took a sip of his beer and then looked down at his notebook. He scribbled with his pen, pretending to cross items off of a non-existent list. “What day are you flying back again?”  
“I land around 10pm on the 2nd.” Ophelia took a sip of her beer without looking up, pretending she was engrossed in her crossword puzzle.  
“I get in on the 2nd too. Maybe we’ll coordinate after we land.”  
“We could try that. So when was the last time you went home to visit your Papa Olaf and Nana?”  
“It’s been a few years. It’ll be nice to go back to Minnesota for the holidays...white Christmas and all.”  
“Yeah, I miss winter a little bit. The Vegas desert is a little depressing. Winter isn’t the same without at least a little bit of snow.”  
“So you have to work when you get back?”  
“Yeah, my plans are to spend a couple of days in the apartment catching up on stuff, then go into the lab to catch up there.”  
“You’re spending Christmas and New Year’s alone?”  
“No. For Christmas, I usually go volunteer at the children’s hospital. My friend just opened a wine bar near Gramercy Park and she’s throwing a private New Year’s Eve party there, so I’ll probably swing by that for a little bit.”  
“Sounds like fun.”  
“Yeah, I hope it will be.”

\------

Greg and Ophelia got out of the CSI SUV and unloaded their bags. Nick got out of the driver’s seat to help them.  
“It was silly of you two to think about getting a cab when I was available,” Nick said.  
“Yes, thanks again for the ride,” Ophelia said.  
“No problemo,” Nick said. “You two have a fantastic Christmas and New Year’s. Vegas will be waiting when you get back.”  
Ophelia gave Nick a hug and a kiss on the cheek. “Merry Christmas and happy new year to you too.”  
Nick and Greg exchanged a man hug. “Now are you sure you don’t want me to just swing around and drop you off at Terminal One? It’s really no big deal for me,” Nick asked.  
“I’ll be fine,” Greg replied, “Thanks for the offer. I’m going to make sure Phee gets to her gate and then I’ll just take the shuttle over. I have some time before my flight.”  
“Alright, suit yourself. I’ll see you guys when you get back.” Nick got into the car and drove off.

“You pack really light,” Greg said.  
“I’ve also been going back to New York every month. And you really don’t have to escort me to my gate. I’ve gotten very familiar with this airport.”  
“I insist,” Greg said. “Plus, I really do have a few hours before my flight, and I’d rather spend it in good company than just sit around playing Angry Birds while listening to music.”  
“Really? That’s exactly what I was planning on doing,” she smirked.

“Well, have a safe flight,” Greg said as he leaned in and gave Ophelia a hug. “So long, Ophelia.” He lingered for a moment.  
“Farewell, Gregory,” Ophelia gave him a kiss on the cheek, “Have a safe trip and happy holidays.”  
Greg watched Ophelia walk through the gate to board her plane.

\------

Greg sat on the beige couch, next to Papa Olaf. Nana was knitting in her chair. Papa and Nana had on matching red and white reindeer sweaters with green piping on the collar. An older TV movie called “Snow Wonder” was playing in the background, but no one was really watching it.   
“Greg, you should go see her,” Nana said.  
“Who should I go see, Nana?” Greg asked, looking up from his phone.  
“The girl you are thinking about,” Nana replied. “You’ve been pre-occupied with her ever since you got here. She’s the one you’ve been sending those text messages to, am I right?”  
Greg blushed a little, “Yes, Nana, you are correct.”  
“Well, go see her.”  
“I’ll see her when I get back to Vegas,” Greg said. “She’s in New York City right now.”  
“You should go see her,” Nana said.  
“I’m visiting with you and Papa. I’m spending as much time as possible with you two.”  
“Greg, don’t get me wrong. We love that you came out to see us and we love spending time with you,” Nana said, “but it really pains me to see you in this state.”  
“In what state?”  
“You’re holding something back...you want to be happy but something is in your way. Just go be with her. It will clear up this foggy aura I am sensing.”  
“What about donuts on New Year’s day?”  
“Honestly, we stopped going years ago. It’s so cold out that they get stale before we make it home.”  
“You stopped going for fresh donuts on New Year’s?! But it’s tradition!” Greg almost yelled. He felt a little indignant; New Year’s morning donuts were his favorite part of being in Minnesota, other than actually seeing his grandparents.  
“If you want them so much, you can get a bag on the way to the airport. They’re open 24/7 this week,” Nana suggested.  
“Look Greg,” Papa Olaf chimed in, “It’s not that we don’t want you around. It’s been a fun few days, but Nana’s right. You’re not fully present here. Go and get her.”


	5. Winter in New York

“That phone has been buzzing all night,” Callie said from behind the bar. “Who is it?!”  
“It’s Greg from Vegas,” Ophelia replied.  
“The roommate?” Callie asked.  
“Yeah,” Ophelia answered. “He’s asking obscure New York questions.”  
“He sounds...interesting,” Callie smirked, “Are you interested?”  
“You know I can’t,” Ophelia said.  
“Oh, come on,” Callie said, “You don’t really believe in that BS, right? They were cops and firefighters. These are high risk jobs. You did not cause Speed’s death or the injuries of all those other guys.”  
“I don’t believe in coincidences,” Ophelia said, “I’m just bad luck.”  
“So, what, are you going to stay single forever?” Callie said.  
“It’s not terrible,” Ophelia smiled and her phone buzzed again.  
“It’s new year’s eve and this guy is tied to the phone, texting you instead of out partying somewhere,” Callie said, “I think it says something.”  
“He’s at his grandparents’ in Minnesota,” Ophelia replied, “so maybe he’s a little bored. Maybe they don’t have as much fanfare out there. I have to run to the bathroom. Be right back.” Ophelia left her phone on the bar. It buzzed again and Callie picked it up. She texted back, then ran to the bar entrance.

Greg was standing at the top of the steps at the sidewalk with his carry-on luggage. Callie ushered him inside and took his coat and bag. He was wearing a black tuxedo with a bow-tie.  
“Well you’re dressed for the occasion. I’ll put your stuff in the back with Phee’s stuff,” Callie said. “I’m Callie, the BFF and bartender. Can I get you something to warm you up?” She put two shot glasses on the bar. Greg looked at the shot glasses, scanned the shelves, and then nodded at Callie. “Wild Turkey,” he said.  
“Excellent choice,” she grabbed the bottle and poured two shots. She toasted Greg and they emptied the glasses in seconds.  
“She’s sitting all the way at the end of the bar, next to the kitchen door. She just stepped away but should be back any moment,” Callie gestured towards Ophelia’s phone.  
“Thanks,” Greg said. He walked towards the back. He ran his free hand through his hair quickly and nonchalantly straightens his bowtie as he caught a quick glimpse of himself in the bar mirror. He reached the end of the bar and took the seat next to Ophelia’s. His heart was beating so loud and fast it felt like a jackhammer against his chest.  
Callie poured him and Ophelia another drink and headed back to the front of the bar where a crowd was gathering. Greg took a sip of his drink as Ophelia returned to her seat. She picked up her phone and gasped. She looked down the bar to see Callie giving her a wink.

“Is something the matter?” Greg turned to her and asked. Ophelia was a bit stunned.  
“Mister Gregory Sanders,” Ophelia put her phone up to her face to hide the girlish smile that she couldn’t contain, “to what do I owe the pleasure?”  
Greg placed his drink on the bar next to hers and stared into her eyes.  
“I’ve decided to take you up on your offer of showing me around New York City,” he finally said.  
Ophelia laughed, “You picked a terrible night.”  
“Really?” Greg said, “I heard New York is really beautiful this time of year.” He turned his whole body towards her. “So were you planning on ringing in the new year here?”  
“Actually, no,” Ophelia replied. She checked the time on her phone, “There’s still enough time to get there. Where’s your stuff?”  
“In the back with your stuff, at least that’s what Callie told me,” Greg replied.  
“We’ll drop your stuff off at my place and then head to the lab.”  
Greg’s heart skipped a beat at the mention of her place, then he looked a little perplexed, “The lab? Do you have to work tonight?”  
“No, but they have one hell of a view on the top floor,” Ophelia downed the rest of her drink. “Callie! We’re heading out!” Ophelia left cash on the bar and went towards the back room to grab their belongings.  
Callie waved from the other side of the bar. As they walked out the back door, Callie winked at Greg. They walked out of the side street onto an avenue.  
“So where are you staying again?” Ophelia asked.  
“I...was hoping you’d at least have a couch or something I could crash in,” Greg said.  
“Unfortunately, I don’t,” Ophelia said matter-of-factly, “but I’m sure we’ll figure something out.”  
Ophelia grabbed Greg’s hand and led him down a quiet side street. Greg could hear the bustle of Times Square in the not too far off distance, but the brownstones on this street were relatively quiet.

“We’re here,” Ophelia announced as she walked up a flight of steps. “Believe it or not, these brownstones are mostly doctors’ offices, which is why it’s so quiet right now. The street one over is all residential, and they all probably have house parties going on.” Ophelia unlocked the two front doors. Greg followed behind her up the flight of stairs.  
“I’m right here,” Ophelia said as she opened the door at the back of the landing. “It’s kind of small. Please don’t mind the mess. I wasn’t expecting any guests.” Greg walked in behind Ophelia as she hit the light switch. The studio apartment was the size of Greg’s living room, but it was very cozy. The overhead lighting was soft and warm. There was a bamboo and paper screen in towards the back of the room where Greg assumed Ophelia’s bed was. A small desk with some wires was in front of the screen. The desk was against a red brick wall which was plastered with photos of friends and family. As he looked around some more, Greg realized they were standing in the kitchen, where there was a counter and some bar stools behind the sink. There was a door to the left which he assumed was the bathroom. She wasn't kidding about not having a couch, he thought.

“Ok, we can put your luggage right here,” Ophelia rolled the carry-on bag next to her desk. She took another look at Greg and then looked at herself in the mirror. She was wearing a casual black top with jeans and knee high boots.   
“I guess I’ll have to change,” she said to herself, “Have a seat. I’ll be a few minutes.”  
“I think you look just fine,” Greg said.  
She ran off behind the screen and he could hear her shuffling through drawers. Two minutes later, she emerged from behind the screen in a bustled knee-length red sequined halter dress. She ran across to the bathroom and Greg heard more drawers opening and closing. She darted across the room again to grab her coat. She threw a pair of sparkling ruby red stilettos into her purse.

“Okay,” Ophelia finally said, “I’m ready to go.” Greg’s jaw dropped; she looked even more stunning than the night they went dancing, he thought. Ophelia slipped into a pair of black flats and grabbed Greg’s left hand. “Let’s go. I don’t want to be late.” They walked out and locked up.  
“How far are we going?” Greg asked.  
“Only a few blocks from here,” Ophelia replied, “not far.” Still holding his hand, she briskly walked down the street, dodging cars and people. Before he knew it, they walked through a set of sliding glass doors.

“Miss Phee! Glad you made it back in time for the party!” Sam, the guard. greeted them.  
“Sam, happy new year!” Ophelia replied as she checked the guest sign in book. “Greg, did you happen to bring your badge with you?”  
“Yes, I have it with me at all times,” he responded as he pulled his badge out. Sam took the information down.  
“Welcome to New York,” Sam said as he handed Greg back his badge.  
“We’ll see you later, Sam!” Ophelia said as she and Greg walked towards the elevator.  
Once the elevator doors closed, Ophelia pressed the button for the top floor. She quickly pulled her coat off and handed it to Greg. She slipped into the red stilettos and released the bustle, which transformed the dress into a floor-length gown. She pulled on elbow-length white gloves to finish the look. The elevator doors opened to the top floor of the New York CSI lab.

“Phee!” Adam called out from the back of the lab, “You made it!”  
“You know I wouldn’t miss this for the world,” Ophelia said as Adam came over for a hug. “Adam, this is Greg Sanders from the Vegas lab. Greg, Adam Ross here is our resident tech geek. He’s like the New York version of Archie.”  
“Nice to meet you,” Greg shook Adam’s hand.  
“Likewise,” Adam said, “Come on, the gang’s all excited to see you guys.”  
“You were expecting the both of us?” Ophelia said.  
“Well,” Adam whispered, “Callie may or may not have texted us. There may or may not be a pool going on as to whether or not you guys would show up before the ball dropped, or at all.”

Greg diverted his eyes towards the floor and suppressed a smirk. Ophelia punched Adam in the arm, but she would be lying if she said she didn’t consider the possibility herself. Greg showing up in a tuxedo with his perfect hair was enough to make her heart race. She was hoping that being in public with him would discourage her from acting on any of those urges that she had been feeling for the past several months.   
“Ow,” Adam yelped, “don’t hurt the messenger! By the way, you look ravishing.”  
“Thanks,” Ophelia smiled, “this one here showed up in tux, so I felt underdressed." They walked towards the rest of the crowd.  
“Miss Ophelia,” Danny greeted, “fancy seeing you here! I thought you were going to be in Vegas!”  
“Happy new year, Danny,” Ophelia said as she hugged him, “I fly back on the second. Danny, this is CSI Greg Sanders. Greg, Detective Danny Messer. This is his wife, Lindsay. She is also CSI. Where are the kids?”  
“We have a fantastic babysitter,” Lindsay sipped some champagne.  
One by one, Greg met the rest of the New York team.

The lab still had Christmas decorations up; there was a sporadic sprinkle of the addition of some ‘Happy 2015’ decor. Party hats and noisemakers were strewn all over the lab desks. Ophelia walked up to a portrait of Sid with his signature glasses and scrubs on the wall. She touched her right hand to her lips and then touched the portrait.  
“We lost him earlier this year,” she said quietly.  
“I’m so sorry,” Greg whispered. He took her left hand and gave it a little squeeze.  
“He’s here in spirit. I just know it,” she turned to Greg with a sad smile. “Come on, let’s go find a good spot to watch the ball drop.” They weaved through the desks, picking up plastic glasses of champagne on the way to the windows.

Greg was a bit overwhelmed with the view. The lights were so bright it was hard to believe it was almost midnight. He was used to the constant brightness of the Vegas strip, but this was a different level. Below them were several stages with the logos of various television networks. The mass of people were so dense that you could barely make out individuals; there was a constant wave of noise and cheering.

“Here, this will be good,” she finally settled on a spot in a corner. She watched him absorb the Times Square vibe, her eyes drawn to his lips. The way his mouth opened and closed slightly with each gasp of wonderment took her breath away. “You okay?” she asked a little shakily, biting her lower lip.  
“Yeah,” Greg snapped out of it, “this is incredible.”

“10! 9! 8! 7! 6! 5! 4! 3! 2! 1! HAPPY NEW YEAR!” the crowd below was so loud, Greg thought he felt the floor vibrate.  
“Hey,” Ophelia turned to face Greg and whispered, “happy new year.” Her left hand wrapped around his neck; she firmly planted her lips on his, taking him completely by surprise. He closed his eyes and breathed in the familiar scent of her lavender shampoo. Maybe the shots at the bar were finally catching up to him, he thought; his legs gave a little. The taste of champagne mixed with her lipstick was strange but not unpleasant. When her tongue touched his, he wrapped his arms around her, partly because he had dreamt of this moment for months now, but more because he thought he might fall over. He forgot he was still holding a glass of champagne in one hand.

“Holy cow, that’s cold!” she said, pulling away from him. He was still in a daze. She turned to see his empty champagne glass still in his hand. He looked down and realized that the contents of the glass were now down her back.  
“I am so, so sorry,” he stammered. He looked around for something that might help. The people outside were still roaring and the noise broke whatever concentration he could muster.  
“It’s okay,” she laughed, “it’s machine washable.” She took the empty glass out of his hand and placed it on a nearby desk. She wrapped both arms around his neck and whispered into his ear, “let’s get out of here.” As she pulled away, her soft lips grazed his neck, sending tingles down his spine. The beam of her smile rivaled the New York City lights. When his eyes finally met hers, he found the same intense stare she gave him the first night they went dancing.

**Author's Note:**

> Sorry to leave this hanging for so long. I'm a little torn as to where to take this to next and think I might wait until the series finale movie airs before I finish this fic. Thanks for checking it out so far and leaving feedback!!


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